


My Fair John

by Elvichar



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-20
Updated: 2011-03-20
Packaged: 2017-10-17 03:54:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/172631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elvichar/pseuds/Elvichar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John prided himself on his ability to mix with all walks of society.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Fair John

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Ivyblossom and Trinaest for cheering me on.

John was used to fitting into to whatever circumstance and situation presented himself. He prided himself on his ability to mix well with all walks of life, all ranks and classes. So he was more than a little dismayed when Sherlock suggested this.

“But why!” John protested, pouring the milk into the cup as he made his third cup of tea of the day.

“That's why!” Sherlock said, exasperated. “Milk second, John, milk second. How can you expect to fit in with people who know how things are done if you insist on putting the damn thing in first every time?”

John was sure Sherlock was stuck in a 1950s Nancy Mitford version of what was U and non-U, but that didn't stop the man from insisting he was right.

“You've deleted most of your astronomical knowledge and have no idea who the Chancellor of the Exchequer is and yet you're bothered about etiquette?” John said, ignoring Sherlock's tea-making tip.

“It's because it's right!” Sherlock all but yelped. “Please, let me give you some sort of lessons in basic behaviour.”

“Why?” John said, churlishly. His behaviour was fine, thank you very much.

“I need you to blend in,” Sherlock insisted.

“What, like you always manage to, you mean?” John chuckled.

“It's for a case,” Sherlock said, tight lipped and refusing to be drawn.

John sighed and put down the spoon. “All right, I suppose I can indulge you if you insist on this. What sort of case, though?”

Sherlock smiled. “Oh, let me worry about that.”

**  
He could just about see why Sherlock was involved in this, but given the antipathy his flatmate had to his brother it seemed odd Mycroft had also stepped in to help with this folly.

“He insisted and I couldn’t stop him,” Sherlock said, as though he was reading John’s mind. “And I could tell what you were thinking because of the way you keep licking your lips like a salamander and darting your eyes around like one of those dreadful Action Man dolls my uncle Bernard kept insisting on buying me when I was a child.”

John giggled at that. “Eagle Eyes! I had that one... and what do you mean salamander?”

“It’s a type of lizard,” Mycroft explained patiently.

“I know what it is!” John snapped.

“You will have to stop doing that, it’s almost obscene,” Sherlock said in measured tones. “You can’t meet important people if you are going to keep sticking your tongue out at them.”

John could feel the anger boiling up, but he clenched his fists and counted. “Fine!”

“The most important thing to bear in mind is never use the words toilet, settee, serviette or lounge,” Mycroft said sagely.

“Yes, thank you for those pearls of wisdom, Mycroft,” Sherlock said, acidly, “I think we can assume John already knows that.”

“Oh, no,” John said mildly, “I was considering going up to my host and asking if I could use the settee as a toilet and wipe my arse with a serviette - in the lounge!”

“Fish forks and knives are never seen in the best houses, so you can ignore all of that,” Mycroft added, unfazed by John’s outburst.

“What about pastry forks and soup spoons?” John asked, pleasantly. “Can I eat my black forest gateau with a soup spoon, or should I use my hands?”

“I don’t think you’re taking this seriously, John,” Sherlock scolded.

“Really?” John said, arms folded.

Mycroft was smiling beatifically. “I did tell you, Sherlock, you really won’t get him to do anything you say.”

John was pretty sure this was more of a challenge to him than Sherlock, but he was still not going to let Mycroft win. Although by letting Mycroft lose he was probably going to end up the real loser. This was clearly some sort of double-triple-bluff. He wasn’t really sure whether Mycroft wanted him to fail, or was just aiming to wind up his brother.

“If you want me to talk with marbles in my mouth I will definitely say no!” John said, knowing this was practically a surrender.

**  
The next day Mycroft and Sherlock had decided to be more earnest in their endeavours. Mycroft had arranged for a machine that emitted small electric shocks to be delivered to 221b.

“What the hell is that for?” John dreaded to imagine. He was certain he would find out soon enough.

“It’s to make sure you don’t make too many mistakes!” Mycroft said, as though it were obvious.

“I am not a dog! You do realise that, don’t you?”

“Why would I shock a dog, John? I am not a monster!” Mycroft said with distaste. “It’s very mild. Hasn’t Sherlock explained?”

“Absolutely no way!” John turned to Sherlock, who inexplicably seemed the reasonable brother suddenly.

“Oh, I agree. Probably best to save that for emergencies,” Sherlock said with a very straight face indeed. John was definitely regretting his assent.

The rest of the day, with the threat of the electric shock machine looming, John made sure to do exactly what was asked of him, in the exact way it was asked.

“So what’s the midday meal called, again, John?”

“Lunch, obviously lunch. Not dinner. Definitely not dinner. Although I think that’s definitely another one I already knew, thank you very much.” The pursed-mouth look on Mycroft’s face made him worry about the shock-machine again. Pavlov probably took lessons from the man.

“And where are we right at this moment?” Sherlock said sweetly.

“Sitting room?”

“No. Nearly. Try again.”

“Drawing room?” John asked tentatively. Though he could see no drawing going on.

“Very good, John!” Mycroft all but clapped his hands. “I think we have covered all the important things. You will need work on your accent and deportment though.”

John stood up, “Right. This is enough. I am not going through any more of this nonsense. You haven’t even told me what this is about! What is this important case, any way?”

Sherlock and Mycroft both looked shamefaced, which surprised John enormously.

“Well...” Sherlock began.

“No, let me, Sherlock, “ Mycroft interrupted.

“What? Somebody tell me!” John said impatiently. “What?”

“It was Mycroft’s idea, I said you would be fine as you were - it isn’t my fault!” Sherlock said quickly.

“Sherlock?” John growled warningly.

“I just wanted to introduce you to mummy!” Sherlock said, almost contritely.

John paused at that. “Your mummy? Isn’t your mother, excuse me for asking, but isn’t she dead?”

“I think you’re missing the gravity of this situation,” Mycroft explained. “Sherlock has never brought anyone home to meet mummy. You should be honoured.”

John was genuinely perplexed at this. “So... you wanted me to be... what, a respectable, passing-for-upper-class... no, I can’t get any further with this. Why exactly are you intent on introducing me to your mother?”

Sherlock refused to look him in the eye, then: “Oh!”

“Oh, indeed, John,” Mycroft said. “And now, maybe I should leave you two, as they say ‘to it’.” John was fairly sure he heard the innuendo in Mycroft’s intonation, but the man himself seemed not to have meant anything euphemistic. Another double-triple-bluff, no doubt.

And then there was just John and Sherlock, alone in the room, the unused electric shock machine in the corner (Mycroft in his haste to leave must have forgotten it - at least John hoped that was the case. His mind refused to parse this as anything else.)

“I didn’t mean anything by it, you are good enough as you are,” Sherlock was still refusing eye contact.

“Why didn’t you just say something?” John asked.

“I wasn’t sure of the right words to use," Sherlock admitted.

For the rest of the night, the words were unimportant.


End file.
